


Most Nights

by meils121



Series: Sing Me A Lullaby [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot lets Parker pull him to his feet and trails behind her as she leads him to the spare bedroom sandwiched between Hardison’s bedroom and the room where Parker’s been staying.  Eliot stares at the bed for a long moment, feeling more like he’s about to be locked in a cell then going to bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Most Nights

            “You told me not to ask you.” Parker says one night, and her voice is soft and hesitant and maybe a little bit scared. Eliot looks up at her. She’s standing in the doorway, barely distinguishable from the shadows around her. A tiny bit of light from the street lamp outside the window catches in her eyes.

            “Thought you went to bed.” Eliot says. He’s been staying with Hardison the past few weeks, ever since they got back from San Lorenzo. He knows he should sleep better knowing that Moreau is finished. But he doesn’t, not when he’s by himself. He’s got fresh blood on his hands, and new faces that haunt him whenever he closes his eyes. New screams to hear when the rest of the world goes quiet. It’s not like any of that goes away when he’s at Hardison’s place, but he feels safer behind Hardison’s custom security system. There are walls around him high enough that he can let his own defenses down a little.

            Parker shrugs, the movement barely visible in the darkness. She’s been spending most nights here at Hardison’s place too, ever since she found out that’s where Eliot was staying. Hardison has spare bedrooms and high ceilings for Parker to dangle from and those were the only reasons Parker gave the first night she showed up. Eliot’s honestly not sure why she’s here. Most nights she shows up after dinner and perches on the back of the couch while Hardison and Eliot watch whatever sporting event is on TV that night. She never says much, just watches, and it’s a little unnerving how calm she’s been the past few weeks.

Eliot shifts a little on the couch. “Hardison asleep?” He asks.

            Parker shrugs again. “Maybe.” She says in that same soft voice. “I haven’t heard him yell anything about orcs in a while.”

            Eliot smiles at that, but it’s nothing more acknowledgement of what she said and he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’d say it’s a good thing Parker can’t see his face in the dark, but he knows she can tell he doesn’t have it in him to really smile.

            “Why are you still up?”

            “I’m hungry.” Parker says. She moves further into the room, not making a sound even though she’s walking across the same floorboards that creak whenever Eliot walks across them. He can see her face more clearly now. Her eyes sweep over him and her lips purse when she sees the empty beer bottles on the table. “What are you doing?”

            “Thinking.” Eliot says. “You know I haven’t been sleeping.”

            “Are you even trying anymore?” Parker asks. She takes the mostly full beer out of his hand on her way to the kitchen. Eliot doesn’t turn around, but he can hear her opening the cabinet door and then the fridge.

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks.

            Parker sighs. She comes back over to the couch and hands Eliot a bowl of cereal. She takes her bowl and curls up in the leather chair across from him, disappearing once again into the shadows. “You’re starting to act like Nate.” She says even softer than she has been speaking. “You’ve never been the type to drink until you can’t feel.”

            “That’s not what I’m doing.” Eliot says. Parker doesn’t say anything, just keeps eating her cereal, but Eliot still feels the need to defend himself. “I’m not an alcoholic, Parker.”

            “Never said you were.”

            “I just had a couple of beers before bed. That’s all.”

            “Five.” Parker says. “Plus the one you had just started.”

            “It’s not like I’m drunk.” Eliot says. He eats a spoonful of cereal before the milk can make it too mushy. “I wouldn’t risk that.”

            “I’m not saying you’re drunk.” Parker says. “I know you’re not. I’m not stupid, Eliot.” Her voice is disdainful and Eliot cringes a little. “You’re just trying to shut up some voice in your head.”

            “Yeah.” Eliot says. He doesn’t ask how Parker knows.

            Parker waves her spoon in his direction, the light from outside catching the silver and reflecting. “Why not just go to bed?”

            “Told you, I’m not sleeping.”

            “I meant what I asked before.” Parker says. “Are you even trying? Most nights you don’t even make it to your room. You just sit out here all night.”

            Eliot shrugs. She’s got a point, but he’s not really ready to admit that. If he tries to go to sleep the events of what happened in the warehouse just take control of his mind. He wakes up reaching for a gun he no longer has to protect himself from a threat that is both long gone and right around the corner. It’s better just to keep himself up until he’s so exhausted that he can’t keep his eyes open. Problem is, he’s been tortured more than a few times by sleep deprivation, and his body’s learned to cope.

            “It’s just asking for trouble.” Eliot says.

            “Whatever you say.” Parker says. They fall into a not quite comfortable silence as they both eat their cereal. Eliot finishes first, setting the bowl down on the coffee table and knocking over a beer bottle in the process.

            “What’d you mean earlier?” Eliot asks after a few moments have passed where neither of them talks. “When you said I told you not to ask.”

            “You remember.” Parker says. “Back when you told us about working for Moreau, you told me not to ask you about what you did for him.”

          Eliot closes his eyes. Of course he remembers. It’s one of those moments in his life that he wishes didn’t have to happen. He’s always tried to protect the team. His past was one of the things he had to protect them from, and he failed. He remembers seeing Parker’s face, the utter trust in her eyes when she asked him. That’s the thing about Parker. She’s jaded and cynical and completely childlike, and he’s not sure how all that can exist in one person. He could deal with Hardison’s anger and Nate’s brisk acceptance and Sophie’s pity, but not Parker’s trust.

            “Yeah.” Eliot says. “I wasn’t kidding, Parker. I’m not going to lie about who I am anymore. Not to the team. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

            “I’m not going to ask you.” Parker says. “I just think you ought to know that if you need to tell someone, we’re all here for you.”

            “Not if you knew.” Eliot says. “I’ve got so much innocent blood on my hands.”

            “You’re not who you used to be.” Parker says.

            Eliot laughs. The harsh sound seems to multiply in the dark room. “I’m not? You know that night when the Italian got shot? I killed men that night, Parker. That part of me isn’t in the past. It’s here right now. I’m never going to be clean of that part of my life. Never.”

            “You did it to protect us.”

         Eliot looks up. “You don’t sound surprised.”

       “I guessed it had to be something like that.” Parker says. “There has to be a reason why you haven’t been sleeping even though Moreau is locked up.”

            “I see their faces every time I close my eyes.” Eliot admits.

            “You were protecting us.” Parker says again. “It’s different.”

            “What?”

            “Why you killed those men and why you used to kill, it’s different.” Parker says. It’s hard enough for Eliot to wrap his mind around _having_ this conversation with Parker, let alone understanding what she’s saying.

            “Parker, I’ve been up for three days straight.” Eliot says, barely masking the growl that’s starting to seep into his voice. “Don’t mess with my head like that.”

            “I’m not messing with your head.” Parker says. “Before – before us, when you killed, you weren’t doing it because you liked killing, were you?”

            “No.” Eliot says. He did it because it kept him alive, kept him paid, kept him safe. He never enjoyed killing, not ever, but he did get used to it. Learned for a long time how to forget what he was actually doing, at least for a little while. “But it’s not like that’s an excuse. I took lives, Parker, and a whole lot of them were of people who didn’t deserve it.”

            “I’m not excusing it.” Parker says. “But the guy who killed because that’s what he got paid to do is long gone. You killed those guys back in that warehouse because you were protecting us. They would have hurt us for going after Moreau, right?”

            “Yeah.” Eliot says. It’s one of the things he feels guilty about, the fact that he’s really relieved that those men are dead and not out for vengeance because he took away the best paying job they’d ever had. Leaving them alive would have meant putting the team in danger, and as much as Eliot wishes he didn’t have fresh blood on his hands, he can’t say he’s sorry they’re dead.

            “That’s your job now.” Parker says, her voice dropping so low he can barely hear it. “You protect us.” There’s a pause, and when Parker starts speaking again she sounds young and vulnerable. “You do things that we can’t so we’re safe. You suffer so we don’t have to.”

            “I don’t-” Eliot starts.

            “Yeah, you do.” Hardison says. He must be taking lessons from Parker, because Eliot didn’t hear him come into the room. Either that, or the lack of sleep has messed up his senses. Hardison stands in the doorway where Parker had stood earlier, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Why didn’t you tell us about those guys?”

            “So you knew too.” Eliot says.

            “I monitor police activity wherever we are.” Hardison says. “Got the report about the bodies, and once the men were identified it didn’t take much to connect the dots.” He takes a few steps into the room. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

            Eliot shrugs. “I was afraid.” He mumbles, half-hoping that the other two don’t hear him. “Didn’t want you to think I’m dangerous to the team.”

       Parker shakes her head. “You’re not dangerous to us.” She says. “You’re part of the team.”

            “Yeah.” Hardison says. “And she’s right. You take the brunt of all the bad stuff so we don’t get hurt. That’s a lot of weight to carry.”

         Eliot doesn’t know what to say to that, because he’s been carrying this weight his whole life. A tear wells up in the corner of his eye, and he’s grateful that it’s too dark for Parker and Hardison to see.

            “What about getting some sleep?” Hardison asks around a yawn.

            “Don’t know if I can.” Eliot says. He’s too tired to really understand everything Parker and Hardison are saying, just that they aren’t as completely horrified by his actions as he figured they would be. He feels like every emotional defense he’s built up have crumbled into pieces, and he’s not sure where to go from here. “I relive their deaths every time I try.”

            But he lets Parker pull him to his feet and trails behind her as she leads him to the spare bedroom sandwiched between Hardison’s bedroom and the room where Parker’s been staying. Eliot stares at the bed for a long moment, feeling more like he’s about to be locked in a cell then going to bed.

            “You can go to bed now.” Eliot says. “Don’t worry about me.” He figures it won’t be long before the two of them fall asleep, and then it won’t matter if he goes back out into the living room. He’s not so exhausted yet that he can fall asleep without reliving that moment over and over. But Parker has other ideas. She orders him into bed and Eliot does what he’s told, curling up into a ball under the covers and waiting for them to leave him alone and stranded in his memories.

            That doesn’t happen. Hardison takes the blanket off the foot of the bed and drapes it over himself, laying down on one side of Eliot. Parker disappears briefly before returning with the comforter from her bed wrapped around her. She presses against Eliot’s other side.

            “What are you doing?” Eliot asks. He’s feeling more and more like a broken little kid. He’s scared and tired and afraid.

            “You’ve been staying here because you feel safer, right?” Parker asks. “So if we stay here with you, maybe you’ll get some sleep. We’ll be right here, so nothing’ll happen to you.”

            Eliot takes a deep, shaky breath and closes his eyes, bracing himself for the dead bodies that haunt his mind. They don’t come, though. Instead he hears Hardison humming softly. Parker brushes a lock of hair off his face. Eliot’s reminded of when he was little and had a bad dream and his mama used to sit with him and sing lullabies until he fell asleep. It’s comforting and sad both, but for the first time in a long time Eliot’s got a happy memory to cling to as he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
